


Flufftember #2

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang - All Media Types, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Embarrassment, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Making Up, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26335759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Flufftember prompts:Nevactacus - Embarrassment, making up
Relationships: Caractacus Potts/Nevada Ramirez
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41
Collections: Flufftember 2020, Nevactacus





	Flufftember #2

“Nevada.”

He woke with a start, pushing himself up onto his elbows on the sofa. “The fuck—”

“Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Nevada ran a shaky hand over his face and glared at Caractacus, ignoring the slick of sweat that had just wetted his palm. “Then why the fuck’re you waking me?” he asked. “I _thought_ you weren’t speaking to me.”

Caractacus bristled in the low light of the lamp, the shadows shifting across his face as his expression hardened. “You were making noises.”

“Was not,” Nevada answered. He knew he sounded petulant but couldn’t help it. The sooner he drove Caractacus back to the bedroom, the better. 

“Forgive me for being concerned.” Caractacus stood with his arms crossed over his pajama-clad chest, glaring at Nevada. “Thought you might be having a nightmare.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” Nevada said, flopping back onto the sofa and giving the blanket an angry, strategic flip to make sure his lap was fully covered.

“Clearly.”

Nevada looked at Caractacus with a surge of alarm. It was too dim for Caractacus to see the color in his cheeks, and surely the blanket—

“I know the difference by now,” Caractacus said. “Sorry to interrupt—but at least have the decency to go in the bathroom? My children are right in those rooms—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Nevada’s heart was slamming in his chest, but he couldn’t quite latch onto an emotion. Anger, at the accusation. Embarrassment, shame—two things he couldn’t abide. Guilt, which was almost as bad. He tried to dig into the anger, but only moments ago he’d been miles away from being angry, and his brain was having difficulty catching up.

Caractacus crossed to the sofa in two steps and grabbed the blanket, yanking it back to uncover Nevada’s body. Nevada made a grab for it and missed, his reflexes dulled by the confusion of waking up to a very different version of Caractacus than the one in his dream. 

He started to drop his hand over his crotch but there was no point. It was too late. He rubbed at his stomach and stretched, instead, pasting a smirk onto his face. “Guess you woke me up about two minutes too soon,” he said, ignoring the fact that his soaked shorts were clinging to his erection. 

“That happened in your sleep?” Caractacus said, his tone clearly indicating that he didn’t believe it. 

“You think I’m just out here—” Nevada stopped himself, glancing toward the closed bedroom doors, and clenched his jaw. “Pretty pleasant fuckin dream, too, til you interrupted,” he said in a low voice through his teeth. His cock was throbbing in his quickly-cooling shorts, but the physical discomfort was only half of his problem. The guilt and embarrassment were roiling in his gut, and he couldn’t believe he’d had a goddamn wet dream like some horny preteen boy.

Even worse, he was _disappointed_ to find himself in a reality where Caractacus was still mad at him—even angrier than before, actually—instead of a dream where they’d been getting along very well. 

“Sorry,” was all that Caractacus said before turning to head back toward his bedroom. 

“You’re the one who won’t let me touch you,” Nevada blurted before he knew the words were on his tongue. His nonchalant act wasn’t working. He felt too vulnerable on his back, too exposed, so he sat up and swung his feet to the floor with a grimace at the drag of wet cotton over his painfully-sensitive erection. 

“You chose to sleep on the sofa,” Caractacus said without looking back. 

“You were being unreasonable.”

Caractacus whirled around. “You were being an asshole,” he shot back, startling Nevada. The inventor kept his voice low in deference to his sleeping kids, but there was no mistaking his anger. 

“I’m always an asshole,” Nevada said mildly. His anger had slipped away, and he looked down at himself with a grimace. His face was burning. Being caught like this was humiliating, and Caractacus didn’t even know the worst part. He could _never_ know. 

“Oh, just go finish for fuck’s sake,” Caractacus hissed, gesturing toward the bathroom. 

“Come finish for me,” Nevada taunted.

Caractacus turned in a huff and stormed back into his bedroom, pushing the door closed behind himself. Nevada hurried after him, catching the door before it latched and following Caractacus into the bedroom. 

“It might shock you to know I have feelings,” Caractacus said, turning to face him as Nevada pushed the door shut with a click. 

“Yeah, you’re pissed, shocking,” Nevada answered, rolling his eyes. He had to fight the urge to cup his hands over his crotch.

“That’s not what I _mean_ ,” Caractacus said. “All I am is some—some object for you to fuck.” He clenched his hands into fists to keep them from trembling. “Well I was up _set_ , Nevada, and you _knew_ all you had to do was say sorry and come back to bed, instead you’ve been sleeping on the sofa for _three nights_ out of what? Stubborn pride? Or simply an absolute refusal to give me the satisfaction of an apology? So what do I do, but lie awake worrying about your feelings, wondering if I’m being _unreasonable_ , and what do you do?” He gestured toward Nevada’s damning erection. “If I won’t give you the one thing you want from me, you just—”

“Hey, you’re lucky I was dreaming about _you_.”

Instead of fueling his anger, Nevada’s words seemed to sap the fight from Caractacus—but not in a good way. “Dream, then,” he said quietly. “None of my pesky annoying habits to get in the way, right? If I talk too much, shove your cock down my throat. If I say no, you can just roll me over and—”

“Hey,” Nevada said, far more hurt than he expected. He pointed a finger at Caractacus, glaring. “That’s not fair.”

Caractacus rolled his shoulders. “Fair,” he mused quietly. He turned toward the bed. “Relax, it’s only a dream. Your subconscious giving you what you want.” He folded the covers further back and sat on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs up onto the mattress. “You’re right, I suppose I’m lucky if it was me.” He pulled the covers over his lap and looked at Nevada. “Go take care of yourself, I won’t interrupt again.”

Nevada’s body had retreated from the edge, though, and he had no desire to _take care_ of himself. “It’s not what I want,” he heard himself say.

“We don’t always get what we want. I’m not doing it for you.”

“No,” Nevada said, running a hand through his hair, “that’s not what—I mean the dream. It’s not what I want.”

Caractacus glanced pointedly at Nevada’s crotch and back at his face.

“Forget it,” Nevada muttered. “Can’t expect you to get it if I don’t.”

“Can’t expect me to understand if you don’t tell me what you’re talking about.”

Nevada hesitated a few moments before crossing slowly toward the bed. Caractacus eyed him warily but without fear, and Nevada was glad for that. “You think I would force you if you said no?”

“It’s only a dream,” Caractacus repeated. “Sometimes I dream about you doing things you wouldn’t do in reality.”

Nevada hesitated again. “Like what?” he asked, curious but also afraid of the answer. 

“Should I tell you? So you can mock me?”

Nevada sighed and pointed at his own wet shorts. 

“The difference is, I don’t enjoy seeing you embarrassed or upset,” Caractacus said.

“Embarrassed and upset ain’t the same.” When Caractacus didn’t answer, Nevada turned to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed beside him, grimacing as he fought the urge to pluck his tight shorts away from himself. “I don’t like it when you’re pissed.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t like it when you’re pissed at _me_ ,” Nevada amended, because Caractacus was right: Nevada did enjoy it when he huffed around with his cheeks flushed in anger, ranting in a thicker-than-usual accent.

“Then don’t work so hard at it.”

Nevada smiled. “Fair point,” he allowed. He paused, gathering his resolve. “ _Lo siento_ ,” he finally said. 

Caractacus looked surprised. After a beat, he said, “Thank you.”

Nevada reached out and took Caractacus’s hand, and Caractacus’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He didn’t resist, though, and Nevada laced their fingers together on his own thigh. “Tell me what I do in your dreams?”

Caractacus stared at their joined hands for several seconds. “You first,” he finally said.

Nevada swallowed. “ _Sueño estúpido_.”

“Maybe, but you clearly feel guilty about it.”

“Guilty?”

“Was it really about me?” Caractacus paused. “I won’t get angry if it wasn’t. I promise.”

“Course it was about you,” Nevada muttered. “But…” He licked his lip and looked at their hands. Caractacus was rubbing his thumb against Nevada’s in a comforting gesture that Nevada knew he didn’t deserve. 

“It was only a dream, and you were obviously enjoying yourself. Just tell me what you were doing to me, I can handle—”

“You were doin to me.”

Caractacus hesitated. “What?”

Nevada cursed his flaming face. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look Caractacus in the eyes. “You were fucking me, okay?”

“I...huh.”

“Huh? That’s all you gotta say?”

“I’m processing,” Caractacus said. “It seems like you were enjoying it…?”

Nevada glared at him. “That don’t mean—”

“Oh relax, it’s not like I’ll ask you to bend over, I think I know you better than that.”

“Actually, I was on my back,” Nevada said, finally managing to hold the other man’s stare for more than a few seconds. “In this bed. And you were…” He swallowed. “Gentle,” he finally admitted.

“Well, of course I’d be,” Caractacus said, rolling his eyes. “But I have no more interest in fucking you than you do in me fucking you.”

“You don’t?” Nevada asked uncertainly. 

“You’re hurting my hand,” Caractacus said, and Nevada immediately loosened his grip with a muttered apology. “Did it occur to you that maybe your dream was a metaphor for wanting to open up to me in other ways?”

“...no.”

Caractacus smiled. “Were you frightened? Hurt? Did you want me to stop?”

“No. Almost strangled the real you for waking me up.”

Caractacus’s smile stretched into a grin. “Glad to know your subconscious trusts me even if your conscious mind is reluctant.”

“Now you tell me your dreams.”

“I was going to say, you holding my hand,” Caractacus said, giving Nevada’s fingers a brief squeeze. “My dreams are boring, Nevada. I once dreamt about you going grocery shopping with me and holding my hand while we walked down the aisles.” He shrugged, his expression sheepish. 

Nevada considered for long moments. “Guess both our sleeping brains want me to open up more,” he finally said. 

Smiling, Caractacus lifted their hands to brush a kiss over Nevada’s knuckles. “Take off the shorts. I’ll give you a wank but that’s all.”

Nevada shook his head. “I just wanna come back to bed.”

“Are you sure?” When Nevada nodded, Caractacus said, “Alright, then.”

Nevada stood and stripped quickly out of the soiled shorts, using a dry spot to clean himself up before tossing them toward the hamper, while Caractacus shifted over in the bed and folded back the covers. Nevada crawled into bed beside him. He was still half-hard and overly sensitive, but he could bear the discomfort. He rolled onto his side to face Caractacus. After a moment, he covered Caractacus’s hand on the bed between them, curling his fingers around the other man’s. 

“Sorry I’m an asshole,” he murmured, searching Caractacus’s face. “And for making you be unreasonable.”

Caractacus chuckled, adjusting his head on the pillow as he looked at Nevada. “You have your moments.” He sighed softly. “You sure you’re okay? You were, um...pretty close to finishing from the looks of things.”

“Fuckin embarrassin,” Nevada muttered.

Caractacus smiled and leaned forward to touch his lips to Nevada’s. “I am glad it was me.”

“Who else’d put up with my shit? Even in a dream?”

“Fair point,” Caractacus said with a grin.


End file.
